Bookslut

July 2009

Here are
some of the things that Tomas, the young protagonist of Basque writer Unai Elorriaga's
brilliant and original book, knows: Plants don't drink coffee. If someone calls
on the telephone asking for his dad, the only things he must say are: "No, he
isn't here," and "Dad is in the hospital." And, according to his cousin IŮes,
whoever finds the rare blue dragonfly, Orthetrum coerulescens, of which
Tomas estimates there are only seven or nine in the world (not eight, because
he doesn't like that number), becomes the most intelligent person in the world.
Of course, Tomas can't pass up an opportunity to become the smartest person
on the planet, and so the hunt is on, with the lightweight prose of Elorriaga
(author of A Tram to SP, winner of Spain's Premio Nacional de Narrativa)
carrying the charming tale swiftly forward.

Naturally, Tomas isn't the only character looking for something. His quest
to find a blue dragonfly is matched in its passion and perseverance by the relatives
with whom he is staying while his dad is in the hospital. His likable and eccentric
Uncle Simon spends his time finagling himself a spot as a linesman in an international
rugby match, and also covertly creating a rugby field on the local golf course.
Meanwhile, Tomas's cousin Mateo is determined to track down information about
his grandfather Julian, a prankster of a carpenter who may or may not have won
the 1927 title of best carpenter in Europe. Though these may seem like inconsequential
ventures, all three characters are so quirky and endearing, it's impossible
not to get wrapped up in their efforts to obtain their goals.

In fact, there isn't a character in the book to whom you wouldn't want to listen
in detail, as when Simon friend's Gur holds forth on his theory of mad birds.
According to Gur, there are mad birds, just as there are mad people, which makes
the scientific study of birds futile. Also not to be overlooked is the elderly
woman Piedad, who sits down every day to write a letter to the deceased lover
she mysteriously never married. Tomas's narration is mostly pitch-perfect in
its imitation of the literal-mindedness of a youngster beginning to make sense
of the world. There are a handful of moments when he is attributed with actions
or speeches that seem more advanced than his mental level would suggest (maybe
it's due to the translation, but "textiles" is an awfully adult word for someone
obviously so young). However, for the most part Tomas's blunders and leaps in
logic succeed in being simply cute. "Insects are: butterflies, beetles, and
dragonflies, and they are 200 million years old," he explains. "That's why insects
are so small, because they are very old. . . . Piedad is an old lady I know.
And she is very, very small, because she is so old." But Tomas's distorted perception
of the world around him shifts from funny to poignant when it comes to the question
of his dad, whose health can be deciphered only by reading through Tomas's naÔve
and telling comments. For all its playful storylines and experiments in style,
the book is shadowed by questions of mortality.

On the whole, Elorriaga's Plants Don't Drink Coffee is a smartly written
tale about a family of nutballs trying to sort things out. In Tomas's case,
he's quite literally trying to figure out what means what in the world, just
as Mateo is attempting to unravel who he is and where he comes from. What Mateo
discovers, and this isn't giving anything away, seems to sum up the book: "his
aitite was a bit of an anarchist. That was the reason his mother was
the way she was. And the same went for Aunt Rosa. And his sister IŮes. And himself
too." That anarchism is precisely what makes this book both comical and moving.